


Alive

by Manisan



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manisan/pseuds/Manisan
Summary: As the train rattled its way back home, Tommy woke up only to reminisce unpleasant memories.
Relationships: Gibson/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Kudos: 11





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> i had this fic for a long time and only posted it on tumblr but i think it's best for me to post it here so everyone can read it :)

The train slithered along the tracks, loud thuds rising from below and up to the passenger seats. The sun was shining down like always, the air cold and windy. The young lad cracked his eyelids open and was greeted with a sight of his so-called comrade, sleeping ever so quietly across him. He rubbed his tired eyes and gazed outside. It’s been a while since he saw the green hills and the countryside. Too long.

He grasped his long left cup of tea with his hands, noticing that it has gotten cold. He drank it anyways, savouring the bland flavour. His mind wandered however. He’s finally away. Away from all the bombs, the gunfire and screams of men. He never thought that he could drink anymore tea or even sit in peace like this. The beaches of Dunkirk were hell to him. There were times where he might not make it alive but here he is. His heart raced as he remembered a memory where he was lucky to grasp the young boy’s hand, leading him away from his death.

But his mind was attached to one memory. A memory of a person.

He stared at his cup, sadness lingering all around him.

‘Gibson.’

He remembered his face, tired and scared, always finding a way to get to safety. But even so he wasn’t selfish. He was the one reason why he’s here, breathing fine and seeing the sight of home again. He remembered.

They were hiding below the mole, like children eavesdropping on the adults. And the next they were both struggling to pull the men that were paddling themselves from the sunken ship. As he reminisced he looked at his comrade, still sleeping soundly. He was glad he made it out alive.

His mind wandered. 

When Gibson sat outside, not trusting the fabricated safety of the ship, he felt a sort of bond. He felt like he trusted his safety with him if anything goes wrong. And he was glad that he cared and still remembered. Wading through the explosives of the ship to crank the door open for them to escape.

When they were unwelcomed on the boat, Gibson was the one to throw down a rope for them to hold on, not wanting them to get left behind. After what happened the three of them were knocked out cold on the sandy beaches, exhausted. Though he felt safe even though it was probably a false sense of security. Seeing as his friend was always there to save him. He wanted to hold on to that feeling for a while.

He took a sip once more as his mind cleared up another memory. His hand trembled as he faced the reality of what had happened.

Shouts were hollered as the men tried to throw him off the boat, pointing their guns. He didn’t want to believe it so he defended him. French or British, he wanted his friend to escape with him. No matter what, he didn’t see the fairness in throwing him off for what he is.

Everything became a blur after that. Multiple gun shots, sea water rushing in and filling the boat. Blocking the holes were useless as water was seeping in too quickly. But he tried anyways. As soon as he heard the call to abandon ship, he acted without thinking. He swam out, thinking of just his safety. Spitfires were waging war above him and ships were drawing near. He swam with all his might to any one of them, wanting to get out of the freezing water.

He bit his lip and he grasped his cup tighter.

Amidst his panicked swimming, he averted his eyes from his freedom to the sinking boat. Gibson was the last one in it. To see that his figure never emerged, his heart sank. But he didn’t have time to grieve. He has to make it alive for his sake.

His eyes started to get watery from all the reminiscing. He wiped his eyes and settled his gaze towards the green hills outside. The train was still moving along, tires screeching once in a while. His cup is empty now. His hands cold.

He glanced around him, noticing the men that were all exhausted from their survival. Probably all relieved to be free. He took a glance at his side, the seat unoccupied.

‘If only he survived. We could’ve been friends.’

His eyebrows scrunched up, letting guilt and sadness wash over him. 

‘I just wanted him alive.’

The train was mostly silent except the screeching of the wheels. And amongst that a young lad was trying to hold back his tears. Though it broke into small soft sobs that were finally free from his heavy chest.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed it! it's not much but this fic was generally what i needed when i finished the movie aha  
> i still think gibson deserves the world! :(


End file.
